My Mom
by B00k Freak
Summary: May never thought that she would lose the chance to have a daughter twice. Spoilers for 508


Daisy knew that she was a worry wart about her friends. The fact that she brushed off any concerns about herself didn't matter, her friends were the important ones. She needed them to be okay, and after everything they had been through in space she didn't know if any of them were.

She could at least see that Mack, Elena, Fitz and Jemma were coping. They were together, and sometimes they weren't as happy as they could have been, but at least they were getting by. Dealing with it.

Daisy knew that she wasn't exactly dealing with everything they'd been through in the most healthy way. She was better at burying those feelings and pretending that she was fine.

She knew one other person who was as good at it as she was. May didn't really seem to be that upset about what had happened, which was a giant red flag in Daisy's mind. She had lost her daughter. Lost even the possibility of _having_ a daughter.

Daisy had lost the chance of having a family more times than she could count, and it never stopped hurting.

She didn't want anyone to go through that. Not Fitz or Mack or May or anyone.

She couldn't believe that May was fine. Not now, after everything.

Daisy knocked hesitantly on her door. She already knew that Coulson was upstairs, so there wasn't much chance of her seeing something she could never unsee.

When Daisy pushed the door open she wasn't surprised to see May curled up on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes fixed on a point in the distance. Daisy swallowed. "Hey." She said gently. "You okay?"

May looked up with a start. She didn't respond though. She knew that she didn't have to, that Daisy would understand.

Moments later Daisy curled up against her and Melinda knew that she was right. "I'm sorry." Daisy murmured. She didn't know what else to say.

May sighed softly. "I don't even remember." She said. "I shouldn't be..."

"Upset?" Daisy completed, wrapping her arm around her. "Of course you should be. You lost something. Something important."

"You can't lose what you never had."

"Yeah you can." Daisy whispered, looking down. "I've lost enough families to know that."

May sighed again. "Sorry."

Daisy shook her head. "That's not- I'm not trying to get pity points." She said. "I just get it, and... I'm here if you need me." She hesitantly took May's hand.

May squeezed her fingers. "It was a nice thought." She said, looking down. "That I could..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters." Daisy pressed. "You were her mom. That's important."

"I'm not." Melinda cursed herself for the sting behind her eyes and the tingle in her nose. "Maybe I could have been, but..." She tilted her head back to keep the tears from falling.

Daisy felt so helpless. She didn't know what she could do to make this better. To fix that hole in May's heart. She spoke haltingly. "You- you're hurting so that she won't." Daisy said. "You took all the pain she would have had just so that she could have the chance of a better life." She sighed. "I don't know what more a parent could do."

May swallowed. "It just hurts." She confessed quietly. "I already lost that chance once."

"I know." Daisy murmured. "I'm sorry."

Melinda knew that she couldn't look at Daisy. She kept her eyes fixed downwards. "I guess I'm just not cut out to be a mother." She whispered. "Robin's better off without me."

Daisy squeezed her hand. "I know it's not the same." She said softly. "But... you're still the best mom I ever had."

Despite everything, May smiled. "Thank you Daisy." She murmured, pulling her that little bit closer. Daisy's head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck. "You're all I could have asked for in a daughter."

Smiling somewhat sadly, Daisy snuggled closer. "Thanks. That means a lot." She sighed. "I'm sorry about Robin."

May shook her head. "It's okay." She said quietly, letting her fingers drag through Daisy's hair. "I've still got you."

Daisy smiled. "Always." She promised.


End file.
